


Half A Heart

by mrs_d



Series: dS Snippets [9]
Category: due South
Genre: Community: ds_snippets | dsc6dsnippets, Dief knows best, M/M, Pining, Post-Series, Snippet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:49:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5693479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dief cocked his head like he was straining to hear a distant voice. Which was absurd, of course. Dief was deaf. If either of them was yearning for the sound of another person, it was Benton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half A Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [ds_snippets](http://ds-snippets.livejournal.com/). Prompts were "hook," "yearn," "distant," "voice;" "Wolves hang around here and they hunt the woods alone, / Waiting for hearts to wander through the door" ("Half A Heart," Stan Rogers).

Benton unhooked Diefenbaker, but the half-wolf didn’t take more than a few steps away from the sled.

“Go on,” said Benton. “Hunt.”

Dief cocked his head like he was straining to hear a distant voice. Which was absurd, of course. Dief was deaf. If either of them was yearning for the sound of another person, it was Benton.

He clamped down on that train of thought before it could derail and lead him into another spiral of depression that could last hours or even days. He’d come out here to hunt with Diefenbaker, to sharpen both their skills, not to dwell on the past or dream of an uncertain future.

The problem was that Diefenbaker was not trying hard enough. He was disturbing Benton’s focus. The other sled dogs were sitting obediently, awaiting instructions, while Diefenbaker continued to stare at Benton with a question in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Benton replied before Dief could ask. “It could be that he’ll come back, or—”

Benton cleared his throat, which was suddenly dry. His eyes stung behind his goggles. Wind, he tried to tell himself, but he knew it was a lie. He drew a breath that hitched, and Diefenbaker finally moved. But not in the direction of the woods.

He sat at Benton’s feet instead, and before Benton had decided to, he’d fallen to his knees in the snow, his face buried in Dief’s fur. His goggles fogged over, and the inside of his scarf became damp as warm air exited his lungs in short, ragged sobs.

“Oh, my oldest friend,” Benton said after a moment. “You’re right. We have to hunt him now, don’t we?”

Dief licked his face once, then hurried to his place at the head of the team.


End file.
